


Sunlight and Shadow

by Heronfem



Category: Haikyuu!!, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, Hel and Baldr, M/M, Retelling, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: Akaashi Keiji, Lord of Hel, has no idea what to expect when the God humans called Baldr is sent to his Hall. But Bokuto, as he's preferred to be known, is criminally incapable of not bringing sunlight wherever he goes.A what-if retelling of the myth of Baldr and Hel from Norse Mythology.





	Sunlight and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Divine, a Haikyuu!! Mythology Zine! It was my first zine experience and I'm proud and humbled to have been part of such a beautiful work.

The one who bore the title Baldr comes to his realm on accident.

Keiji looks at the now deceased god standing in the entrance to his hall from upon his throne, and knows the taste of bitter disappointment. It is a cruel thing that the others have placed upon him- the final home of a child of the sun, a final trap in the darkness.

“Welcome to my hall,” he says all the same as Baldr climbs the icy steps. The humans had titled him such, giving him the name to match his form, and Keiji has heard some of the stories about him. Heard of his beauty, mostly, and of the great and golden hall that he had built in Asgard. The stories left out the strange hair, the golden eyes, the brilliant smile. “I didn't expect to see you upon my stairs, Lord Baldr.”

“Please, it's Bokuto,” he says as he stops in front of Keiji's throne and looks around with interest. “That's my name! Titles are fun but names are better. So... I'm dead?”

“Yes,” Keiji says, reaching up to adjust the furs draped around his shoulders. He knows he looks grim, dressed in black robes. The humans call him two-sided; he is beautiful, but terribly cold, they claim, and he does not disagree. “This is Hel, realm of the dead not chosen or unworthy to ascend to Valhalla.”

“Huh.” Bokuto puts his hands on his hips, looking around with interest. “So this is Hel. I didn't expect that! Wow, you’re really pretty. Hey, what should I call you?”

Keiji wishes he could escape the conversation already. _What should I call you_ implies that Bokuto will be calling on him, and Keiji values the silence of his home. Bokuto is large and loud, burly and powerful, still radiant as the sun even within the gloom of Hel. “You may call me by the title of Hel. It is my title and my realm, and that is enough.” He stands from his throne, beckoning the once glorious god forward, and leads him down the passage beyond the throne into the Eljudnir, the true Hall of Hel. It is a grim and cold place, with tall stone walls that reach up high above, high enough for the true forms of the gods to walk with ease. Keiji can walk comfortably at ten feet tall and not brush the ceiling.

“Hey, hey, Hel?”

“Yes, Bokuto?” Keiji says, keeping his tone mild as he shows him the doors to the various offshoot segments leading to different lands. Sickness, natural disasters, age, war, accidents… they’re all grim and dark. 

“There's a lot of people here, huh!”

“Far more people die of sickness than they do battle,” Keiji says, keeping the bitterness from his voice. “Valhalla takes only the most choice of warriors to its doors. I was given Eljudnir to house the rest. They are left to me, to care for and to heal through their rest, my burden alone.”

“Are you, though?”

Keiji stops, turning to look at him. Bokuto blinks enormous eyes at him, still smiling.

“Pardon?”

Bokuto waves a broad hand around at the stone. “You're not alone! There's a ton of people in the Hall, right? Maybe some of them could help out, and help each other!”

Keiji stares at him, baffled.

“We could build houses of healing within your realm, right? Happy homes and places for people to make and create and be happy and help each other! Your lands are open, and so is your Hall! I built a great hall once,” Bokuto says, and his smile is like sunshine. “I'm sure I can do it again! Let me add onto yours, and make it bright and happy for them. And maybe it'll be happy for you, too! I’ll build you a Hall more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen!”

Keiji's heart, slow to move, seems to be unsettled in his chest. It is, admittedly, a beautiful thought. “I welcome you to it. Given your prior stature within Asgard, I give you free reign in my hall, with the exception of my private chambers. Build as you wish. Beyond the doors to the West, there is a forest inhabited by those who died within wooded areas- you may draw from it so long as you plant one tree for each one felled.”

“You have my word, Hel!”

oOo

Frigga's envoy comes not even a full week from Baldr's death.

She's small, the chosen volva that comes through his doors, and terribly young as well. But she smiles up at him, fearless, and Keiji allows his curiosity to rise. He’s not surprised to see her, but she is indeed very young.

“Lord Hel,” she says, and inclines her head elegantly. “I am Shirofuku Yukie, the current Hermod, messenger of the gods. And I bring a message from Frigga to you; an entreaty, if you will hear it.”

Keiji waves his hand, using his magic to pull a seat from the stone for her. “Very well, I will hear it. Sit, please.” He rises from his throne, shrinking to human size and creating a table and seat for himself as well. Shirofuku bows and does as he asked, eyes soft and smile easy.

“Frigga is deep in mourning for her child,” Shirofuku says with the serenity of mountains. “She wishes to know if there is any way that you will release him from your grasp.”

Keiji drums his fingers on the table. “All things but mistletoe already swore an oath not to harm Baldr,” he says. “And mistletoe is what ended his life. Does Frigga think that I'm so generous as to ignore what was clearly a misstep on her part, to not get mistletoe's oath once it came of age?”

“Not at all,” Shirofuku says. “Frigga wishes to know what sort of trial you would give, in order to return him to the other world. Asgard misses its son. As I'm sure you've seen, he shines brighter than all other things, and he is well loved. She will do anything to get her child back.”

Keiji considers. “There is no love lost between myself and Asgard,” he says at last. “This realm was given to me to rule, alone. And in my realm, I am untouchable. The reign of the gods does not apply within Hel and Niflheim. But I can understand the desire to regain what was lost. Here is the message you may take to Frigga. All creatures, living and dead, must cry true tears of sorrow for Baldr's loss. Collect at least one tear from them and deliver it to me. Tears of true, unfeigned sorrow. Nothing else. I will know if they are false. I will give her a year to gather them all, starting from the exact moment you leave my Hall.”

Shirofuku rises, bowing deep. “You are very gracious, Lord Hel.”

“No, merely unwilling to deal with the gods harassment,” Keiji says, a bit sharper than he means to. He stands, growing back to his full size and letting the seats and table melt back into the stone as he approaches his throne. “I will give them this chance, and no longer. Leave me.”

Shirofuku bows once more, and takes her leave of the Hall as Keiji sits once more on his throne.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the smell of fresh grass and summertime reaches his nose, and Keiji stirs from his thoughts as Bokuto strides into the throne room with a wide smile.

“Hel, I made friends and we got started!” he announces with incredible cheer. “You should come meet them! They're helping me build the new hall and they're all good with wood and stuff! Come see the layout!”

Keiji blinks, thoughts still covered in cobwebs. “Pardon?”

“Come on!”

And Bokuto takes his hand.

It's been so long since he's felt warmth against his own skin.

Keiji walks through the darkness of his hall with Bokuto pulling him along, bypassing the doors to the different lands of his care. His robes trail on the floor, his furs wrapping him in warmth he rarely feels. There is sunshine in Hel's domain now. Where it has come from, he is uncertain, but through the windows high in the stone, weak golden light spills through and on to the floor. He has the feeling that this may be Baldr's doing. Reaching the Western door, Bokuto pushes it open and Keiji blinks against the sudden light. Tall, strong timbers have been driven into the ground to form a beautiful archway to an area out in the meadow marked out with ropes for what looks to be the base for the new hall. The normal, eternal grey dusk of Niflheim has been exchanged for faint sunlight, streaming through grim clouds.

The hall will be as magnificent as described. Keiji feels as though he’s been knocked off of his feet, looking around at the base. 

“Baldr-”

“Please, just Bokuto! Or Koutarou, that's fine too!”

He is so terribly beautiful, his smile so bright. Keiji feels as though he's walked his entire life in darkness, and is just now learning to see.

Oh. Oh, no.

“Bokuto,” he says, and some of his desperation must come through in his tone. Bokuto frowns, turning back to him.

“What is it?”

Keiji reaches out in spite of himself, hand falling to Bokuto's sleeve. “I need to speak with you, immediately. Something's happened that concerns you, and the future.”

He relays the deal that he made with Frigga's envoy. Bokuto blinks at him a few times, and then, slowly, crumples.

“You don’t want me to stay?”

That most certainly was not the anticipated response. 

“It’s not that I don’t wish you to stay, it’s just that I could hardly imagine you’d want to,” Keiji says bluntly. Bokuto blinks, his eyes owlish. 

“So… you’re not sending me away? Because I think I might like it here.”

“I’ve set Frigga an impossible task,” Keiji says, voice tart. “I keep what’s mine.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto smiles, a shy little thing. “You do?”

“I do,” Keiji says, firm, and refuses to acknowledge the heat on his face as Bokuto’s smile grows even wider and the weak sunlight blossoms into full glory, clouds splitting to let golden light cover the trees.

Bokuto’s smile is even more beautiful when in full light.

oOo

In the eternal gloom of Niflheim there’s no true way to measure the passage of time, and Keiji has no real reason to do so. But now, with sun-touched Baldr under his roof and sunshine now a part of his life, he finds that he likes the eternal swing of night and day. He makes his way through Eljudnir towards his own chambers, and pauses when he finds a hearth lit, and Bokuto sitting before it with tools in his hands and wood chips on the floor.

“Oh, hi!” Bokuto smiles up at him. 

“What are you doing?” Keiji asks, and Bokuto shows him. It’s a block of wood being carved into a horse head, beautiful if somewhat blunt. 

“Carving! It’ll be on the bannisters in the new Hall! I was thinking about putting them in gold but I like them in wood!”

“Will you teach me?” Keiji asks, surprising himself, and Bokuto beams up at him. 

“Of course!” Bokuto pats the floor, and Keiji joins him. 

The evening goes quickly, Bokuto’s strong hands guiding his until they’re both tired. The next night, Keiji returns once again, and finds Bokuto in front of the fireplace and waiting with a smile. A month passes this way, Keiji’s hands learning new things and rough, beautiful things taking form from blocks of wood. Bokuto talks as they spend time together, spending hours telling meandering stories of the gods and mortals that he’s met, and Keiji finds that he loves the sound of Bokuto’s voice. 

“Say,” Bokuto says, in what he probably thinks is a sly voice one such night, “want to help build the new Hall? You could put your new skills to work.”

Before he knows it, before he feels as though he’s even blinked, Keiji finds that Bokuto has slipped into his heart and his life. Bokuto is everywhere, running into the throne room to show him interesting rocks, bringing him flowers he finds in the meadow, bounding through the base of the new Hall with his amused workers in tow. Keiji meets them as well. Komi and Konoha are former woodworkers who died of illness, Onaga a goldsmith murdered by a neighbor, Sarukui and Washio warriors not chosen for Valhalla. They’re uncertain around him for all of a day, but Bokuto shows no fear of him, and their worries melt away. They show him how to climb the beams, Bokuto lifting up wood to place into the grooves of the highs ceilings, and Keiji breathes easy as the sunlight that seems to follow Bokuto everywhere beats down on his shoulders, his furs abandoned by the tree covered walkway.

And then, one fine day six months after Baldr’s death, on a pleasant afternoon, Bokuto catches his arm. 

“Hel! I wanna ask you something!”

“Yes?” Keiji asks as he pulls his furs on, settling them along his shoulders. Their work is done for the day, and he intends to go and relax in his chambers.

“Tomorrow I’m going to the Eastern door to listen to some people tell tales by the pond, will you come?” His eyes are big and excited. “Your people would be really, really happy if you came too!”

Keiji has never known himself to be weak to anything, but Bokuto’s smile destroys him. 

“Very well,” he says, to Bokuto’s shouts of excitement, and the next day finds himself reluctantly stepping out of the Eastern door into the lands of the dead. It is both craggy and wooded, and he follows the workers along a rugged path into a patch of woods where he knows a gazing pool to be. They walk through the towering Niflheim trees to the pool, and Bokuto bounds forward with a cry of delight as they hear voices through the trees.

Bokuto is beloved by the people, clearly. They know him by sight and by name, calling greetings and smiling as he walks into the grove around the pool. Keiji hesitates at the treeline, uncertain, Konoha chuckling as he slips around him and strides into the grove. 

There’s a decent sized crowd, and they fall quiet when he steps out from the trees. 

“This is Hel!” Bokuto says, blithely ignoring the fear and uncertainty on the faces of the people gathered.

“They know who I am, Baldr,” Keiji says quietly, and is ready to turn and flee from all of the wary eyes when a little girl walks out from the group over to him, holding something behind her back, and gently tugs on his robe with her free hand.

Keiji blinks, bending down to hear the little one better.

“Um,” the little girl says shyly, “I made you a crown, Lord Hel! Lord Baldr said that you need more smiles, and um, flowers make me smile so I got you flowers from the meadow! But I think it's too small.”

It's a ring of valerian and brilliant golden poms with black centers, all golden and white, and while 10 feet tall it certainly won't fit. But… Keiji shrinks, making the little one gasp, and fits the crown on his head once his about the size of a normal human. It’s perfect, and he smiles as he catches his reflection in the pool. The yellow flowers are bright and gaudy as sunlight, and something eases in his chest.

“Thank you,” he says as the crowd murmurs in awe. “What is your name?”

“Sigrun! I’m six.”

“Thank you, Sigrun,” he says, and that breaks the barrier. He’s offered a seat, and Bokuto rushes around introducing him to everyone as chatter fills the air, and Sigrun plops herself firmly at his feet. 

When they step back into Eljudnir hours later, Keiji leans against the wall, the flowers lopsided on his head. He looks down at his hands, beginning to grow calluses from his work helping to build the new Hall. There are a few scratches on them from nails and from the carving tools that he’s learning to use, Niflheim’s pale grey dirt under his fingernails. No longer are they the carefully maintained hands of one who sat and did little but exist. Now, he works for his people, his charges, and a fierce heat wells up in his heart. His face hurts from smiling, the joy of unabashed acceptance moving him deeply.

They are _his people_ and now he knows names and faces and stories and he will never leave them to suffer in death as they have in life ever again. They had told him of their shame at not being taken to Valhalla, of their wishes and hopes dashed and changed. 

He will make the Halls of Hel so magnificent that Valhalla herself will envy them, no matter what.

“Hel?” Bokuto asks, cocking his head. He’s stopped to look at him, eyes wide with interest. “What is it?”

“Thank you,” he says, and Bokuto blinks, his golden eyes practically luminescent in the darkness. 

“Huh?”

“You came here with nothing and have given me everything,” Keiji says. Bokuto's cheeks go pink. 

“No, I-”

“Let me finish,” he says, reaching out and resting his hand on Bokuto’s broad chest. Even in death, he’s sun-warmed. Keiji’s heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest, wild and happy. “I do mean it. I have been so terribly alone, even surrounded by all of these people. I’ve walled off my heart, and my work, keeping them far from me and managing them from a distance. No more. Thank you for showing me what they might mean, and that I was never alone.” 

Bokuto melts, his face lighting up in a smile. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Awww, Hel!”

“Keiji,” he corrects, and Bokuto’s eyes go wide. “Please, call me Keiji. My name.”

“Keeeeiiiiji,” Bokuto croons, beaming, and laughs against his mouth as Keiji pulls him in for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet and utterly fond, and Keiji finds himself being the one to melt as Bokuto wraps strong, powerful arms around him and holds tight.

Keiji thinks he could grow to adore the taste of sunshine.

oOo

Keiji somehow isn't surprised when Loki, the culprit himself, comes trudging into the Hall 9 months after Baldr’s death. But Loki looks tired, eyes red rimmed and his lanky form even thinner than usual. His usual red and black finery looks dusty and travel worn, and he gives Keiji a strained smile as he stops before the throne.

“Can I see him?” He asks. No greeting, no attempts to be charming. Just the words laid bare. “Please.”

Keiji debates toying with him. Kuroo, now Loki, had been the one to pluck him out of the darkness of the past and present him to Odin, but Hel's domain is now his and his alone. Kuroo has no claim on him or power over him, and he's fun to torment. He plays along with Keiji’s games, for one thing. But he's too tired to try and match wits at the moment. Bokuto had come to his chambers to work on carving and kept him up half of the night with increasingly ridiculous stories that Keiji couldn't stop listening to.

“I'll ask if he'll see you,” Keiji says, and snaps his fingers. A chair appears for Kuroo, who drops into it heavily. His eternally unkempt black hair sits like a ruffled ravens wing on his head. He looks positively grim.

Keiji rises from his throne and walks his Hall until he finds Bokuto sitting near a weakly burning fire lit in one of the many cold hearths, surrounded by plague victim children listening to him with rapt attention as he spins a story about a fish wishing to be as beautiful as a bird. Keiji watches for a moment, feeling a smile slipping onto his face as the warmth from the fire sinks into his bones and lightens his heart, Bokuto’s bright smile drawing him in close and holding tight. His heart clenches, aching faintly. There must be only a few people remaining to give their tears, and Bokuto will soon have to leave him again.

Something so bright and beloved would never be permitted to remain in his Hall.

“Baldr,” he calls softly, and Bokuto’s head jerks up. The smile that Keiji thinks of as _his_ springs onto his face- awed and delighted.

“Hel!”

“You have a visitor. Loki wishes to see you, though I’ll tell him to leave if you like.”

One of the children has toddled over to his legs, and Keiji bends down to scoop her up so she can rest in his arms. She buries her face in his robes, and his heart squeezes. What would life have been like, in the eternities of boredom, if Bokuto had not shown him his own people? He cradles the child carefully as Bokuto stands up. He’s beautiful, in his soft golden tunic and comfortable white linen high breeches, and his wild hair is all askew as he beams at Keiji.

“Loki came to visit me? Where is he? Can I see him right now?”

Keiji smiles softly. “Yes, Lord Baldr, you may. He’s in the throne room.” He presses a kiss to the forehead of the little one in his arms, making her giggle, and gently sets her back down with her friends to play by the fire while they return to the throne room.

Bokuto bounds through the hall, reaching the throne before Keiji does at his more sedate pace, and he’s not surprised to hear twin cries of delight before he reaches the door. When he steps into the throne room, Bokuto and Kuroo are hugging each other and talking so fast their voices blend together. 

“-so sorry, I didn’t know it would kill you, I’m so sorry-”

“-fine! Hel’s so nice and I’m having so much fun building a new hall and-”

“-just a huge mess and I missed you so much-”

“-Missed you too!!!”

Keiji rolls his eyes, settling down on the throne. How is he not surprised that the two are friends? They chatter at each other frantically for a good ten minutes before calming down, and Keiji pulls a table and chairs from the ground for them to sit on. 

Kuroo flops his gangly form onto a chair. “I really am so sorry. I had no idea it would actually kill you. I thought it would sting at most, just a little injury to laugh off.” 

“It’s fine!” Bokuto waves his arms, beaming. “I’m happy here! Kei- Hel’s really nice and I’m building another Hall and I love it here! Hey, hey, Hel, should I get drinks?”

“I’ll handle it, Bokuto,” Keiji says mildly, adding another chair to the table and calling up a fountain of clear water and drinking goblets for them. Kuroo takes the water gratefully, sighing in relief. The journey from Asgard is always long, and he looks tired. 

“What a trip,” Kuroo groans, filling his goblet once more. “I look forward to you coming back, doing this more than a couple of times a year must be exhausting for people.”

Bokuto frowns. “I’m not going back. Why would I go back? I mean, besides you?”

Keiji feels as though he’s been doused in ice water, and turns around to busy himself with dusting away imaginary dirt from his throne. “There was the agreement with Frigga, Bokuto, as you recall. If all the world cries tears of true sorrow for you, you’ll be returned to Asgard regardless. I gave my word. And here in the realm of Hel, we take such things very seriously.”

“Frigga is close to completing her task,” Kuroo says, and Keiji’s heart clenches. “With just three months remaining, there are only 200 tears left to collect. It’s only a matter of time before all of them give their tears.” 

“What if one of them didn't?”

Keiji closes his eyes a moment before turning. Bokuto stands there, face somber for once, and Keiji's heart clenches tight in his chest.

“Then you would be trapped here, until Ragnarok itself,” Kuroo says quietly, his voice oddly gentle and thoughtful.

“Is that so bad?”

Keiji's heart stops. Bokuto takes a deep breath, stepping forward.

“Maybe,” he says, “I want to stay. Maybe I want to be here. Maybe I could make you smile, and build you a home, and make this place just as happy as Valhalla. Maybe I don't want to go back, and I want to stay here with you forever instead. Because I'm happiest here!”

Keiji lets Bokuto take his hand, feels him lift it to his mouth and press the softest kiss to it. It is impossibly gentle, his long fingers resting on Bokuto's sturdy calluses and powerful grip, and he feels tears slip down his face for the first time in centuries.

“If you'll have me,” Bokuto says, “I'll stay at your side until the stars burn out.”

“Yes,” Keiji manages before ripping his hand away so he can take Bokuto's face in both hands and kiss him deep.

Kuroo sighs. “You just love to make my life difficult,” he says, but he’s smiling. “Alright, you two lovebirds, I suppose I do owe you a very, very big favor.”

oOo

Shirofuku appears once more in the Hall of Hel, a year to the day since the deal was struck.

“Good day, Lord Hel.”

He inclines his head, only half paying attention. He’s distracted by more important matters. The child on his lap, Thyra, is showing him a wood carving she’s done of a bear for him. It’s honestly quite good. 

“Thank you, Thyra,” he says, and she beams, pressing the little thing into his hand. “I must speak with the volva, now. I’ll join you for dinner later.”

“Okay!” Thyra bobs a curtsy and runs out of the room to go play with her friends, and Keiji tucks the bear into a bag around his neck, where it can be close to his heart.

“Shirofuku,” he says mildly, and she gives him a polite bow. 

“I’ve come to tell you that we gathered tears from all the world save one giantess, Thokk, who would not cry. She claimed there was no love lost, and that Hel may keep what her halls had taken.” Shirofuku gives him a long look. “There are suspicions that it may have been Loki, but…”

“But you failed, none the less,” Keiji says. He keeps his voice calm, hides his smile behind a blank face. “I will keep what is mine, and you may tell the gods that they can mark this as a lesson.”

“I will,” Shirofuku agrees, and bows. “Good day to you, Lord Hel.”

“Travel safely, Hermod,” Keiji says, and Shirofuku leaves with a bit of a smile. Keiji waits until she’s gone before rising and entering the main Hall. Eljudnir is bustling with noise, storytellers by fireplaces and children running around, playing. Sunlight, bold and strong, streams through the high windows and casts light across the warm hall. Furs are strewn here and there, cookpots rich with the most savory meals, and Keiji slips out the Western door and into the tree lined walkway leading to the new Hall. 

Keiji walks through the arched branches of the natural walkway, letting his furs fall to the ground as he goes. The sun warms his arms and neck, and he tips his face up as he looks up at the grand ceiling and great timbers of the building’s bones once he steps inside, Bokuto above calling out to the builders as the Hall takes shape. He climbs into the rafters, nimble as a bird, and finds Bokuto laughing with Konoha as they nail in the joists.

“Keiiiiji!” Bokuto calls, sprawling backwards to lay along a beam carved with beautiful scenes of a hunt. He smiles at him, upside down, and Keiji’s heart swells.

“Hello, my love,” Keiji says, and Bokuto kisses him with all the passion of the sun itself.

And the Lord of Hel and the former Child of the Sun live, as they should, in happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed my soul and keep me motivated! You can find me as @HeronVinn on Twitter and @heronfem on Tumblr and pillowfort. I hope you enjoyed this piece!


End file.
